


Italian Mafia

by Jayjay17175



Category: Superfruit
Genre: Car Accidents, Character Death, Fake Character Death, Italian Mafia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjay17175/pseuds/Jayjay17175
Summary: Mitch had been dead for two years. Scott opened the door to a frantic knock one day. Does he need more sleep? Or is what he opens the door too actually real?





	1. Anniversary

Today was the two year anniversary of Mitch’s completely unexpected death. It was a car accident, his gas tank exploded leaving him burned and completely unrecognizable. The only salvageable item from the wreck was his license plate, which I had confirmed was the car he was driving that day, and his leather wallet which was decently charred with his ID card in it. 

There was a huge feud about where he would be buried between his friends and family. A feud which Kirstie and I were caught completely in the middle in, the two of us being the only ones in the gray area, being both friends and family. It was firmly decided that he would be buried in Texas, and his friend finally came to terms with it. Kirstie and I were always totally fine with both options, while I preferred him in LA so I could visit him more often, he would also be home in Texas. 

Picking out his outfit was a bitch to do. He himself had always changed a total of twenty times before finally picking the one he wanted. I ultimately asked Kirstie for her opinion and we spent a full two days deciding what he would wear. Balenciaga, a classic Mitch Grassi look, was what we ultimately went with. Even though it wouldn’t be an open casket, and there would be no viewing held because of the burns, we knew he would haunt us forever if we didn’t put him in something cute. 

The day of the funeral was rough. That was the day that life had finally slowed down enough for me to cry. I had cried through the whole thing, pulled it together enough to say a few words, and then cried through the rest of it. The funeral was in Texas and after the main service I went straight to Mike and Nel’s house, and into Mitch’s old room. It had been redone a few years ago, but a few of Mitch’s things were still in there, as well as his scent. They didn’t know that I was there until my parents called them later that night to ask where I was. I guess I had fallen asleep in Mitch’s room and Kirstie came to cuddle with me in his room. We cried together for a long time, before we both fell asleep, emotionally tired. 

I still missed him every day. Thought about him everyday. Tried to text him everyday. I rewatched Superfruit videos and Mitch compliations all day long on the days where I had nothing planned. Today was one of those days. Two years ago today I had lost my other half, and thought I would never get back on track. Today I’m making this life work for me, even though Mitch is no longer there to walk it with me. 

I kept getting phone calls today, the only ones that I bothered to answer were his parents’ calls. They said when they went to visit Mitch today his grave site had been covered with flowers already. Our Texas stans are pretty strong I guess.

There was a knock at the door, and I didn’t answer it. Then it came again. This wasn’t too unusual, people selling things usually knock a few times. Then the knock came for a third time, this time longer and more urgent, maybe louder if you listened closely enough. I finally got up to answer it, maybe it was someone who needed help. 

I got to the door, thankfully I was fully clothed from going to a single meeting this morning and being too lazy to change after. I opened it and I froze on who was on the other side. 

It was someone that I thought I would never see again. 

It was someone that I missed so much it hurt. 

It was someone who was supposed to be dead. 

“I need your help.”


	2. The Ghost Haunting Me

It was Mitch at the door. 

No, more like a hallucination of Mitch, I didn’t get any sleep last night and went to sleep at around 1 AM the night before. This is just my mind telling me that I need to get my ass in bed and take the most real nap in my life. Though I still couldn’t help tearing up, this has never happened to me before. I sniffed, and wiped away a stray tear. The Mitch standing here looked so distressed, I just wanted the vision to go away. And he was holding a duffel bag, I wonder what that was all about. 

“Wow, I really need to get some sleep,” I said, brushing another tear off my face. 

I started closing the door when it stopped, and wouldn’t go anymore. I looked down where the blockage was and it was a very thick shoe that wedged its way in between the door and the frame. Was someone really there and I just pictured them to be Mitch? Had to be. 

Before I could open the door again it was pushed open and the person came inside, closing the door behind them, locking it and looking out the peephole. 

This person still looked like Mitch, but now I was starting to think they were too real to be a hallucination. But Mitch was dead, there was no way he was standing in the living room we shared two years ago. Then he walked past me to close the blinds on the balcony, and his smell is what got me. No one smelled like Mitch did, no one could ever smell that good.

I took three long strides across the living room and grabbed him, turning him around quickly. I could FEEL the shock on my face, my mouth hanging open like an idiot, my eyeballs as big as the plates in the kitchen cabinets. 

I put my hands on his cheeks, blinking a couple of times giving the hallucination another chance to disappear before I believed it could actually be him. 

“There’s no way,” I said, astonished that he was here. 

He literally died two years ago, I was the one that identified his belongings. I was the one that went to the funeral home to identify the tattoos on his hand because that was the only part of him that wasn’t burned. I was the one to call his parents and then I let them call everybody else after that. There was no way this was happening, because Mitch was dead. He was supposed to be anyways. People that are dead don’t close your blinds, and push their way into your house, and let you squish their cheeks around to make sure they are actually here. 

“Are..are you?” was all I could manage. 

“Scotty, I’m sorry,” was how he responded. 

I scrambled him into a hug, squeezing him so hard I could feel his lungs fighting against my arms. I broke down in sobs, crumbling down to the floor and bringing him with me. 

“No, you were dead, you ARE dead, I confirmed it myself, this isn’t real, you’re not real,” I said, letting my words interrupt my sobs. 

Mitch was hugging me back, squeezing my neck so hard I thought it might snap. Maybe this wasn’t Mitch after all, Mitch never had this sort of strength on him.

“Scott it is me, it really is, and I’ll explain everything but we have to get to your room. It’s not safe up here, the less windows the better,” he said, letting go.

He got up from the floor, and started walking back over to the stairs. I scrambled to get up and I ran after him, grabbing him around the waist and squeezing before he reached the stairs. 

“No, don’t let go, don’t walk away,” I said, trying my best to stay standing this time. 

He accepted that I wasn’t going to let go, and we awkwardly waddled down the stairs, funny enough something we both hated when other people did it. 

He didn’t go into his old room, he went into mine. He didn’t stop there though, he went into my master bathroom that had no windows in it. 

He finally threw that black, backpack duffel bag thing on the floor. Not only the duffel was black though, I quickly realized that he was wearing all black. His facial features also changed a lot, he shaved his mustache, he had a huge scar going from his forehead, through his eyebrow, and at the very corner of his eye. I can imagine when he got that he was scared that he could have lost the eye. 

“Um Mitch?” I asked. 

“Yeah?” he said, stopping for a moment. 

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?”

He sighed. 

“Look Scott I can’t tell you much right now, but I can tell you that something happened two years ago that I’ve been taking care of ever since,” he said, pulling this gadget out of a small pocket in the backpack/duffel bag. 

He pressed a few buttons on it and then it lit up. I scoot over to where he was sitting and looked over his shoulder. He was looking at a little red dot on the screen. Is this a tracking device? 

“You said you needed help, why do you need my help?” I asked. 

“I can’t tell you that right now, it's bad enough that I brought you into this, the less you know the better,” he paused, “shit, they’re almost here.” 

“Who’s almost here? What is going on?” He was ignoring me, and was starting to open his duffel bag instead. 

Inside where a ton of assault rifles, pistols, a shotgun, and a shit ton of ammo for all of these. 

“What the fuck is that Mitch? There is no way that this is real, I’m dreaming,” I said, watching my dream in disbelief. 

“I promise that this is real Scott and I promise that I will explain everything later,” he said, loading a magazine into a pistol and handing it to me, taking off what I assume is the safety, “and don’t shoot this unless you need too.” 

He took one of the assault rifles out of the bag, and put a magazine in it. I had no idea what kind of rifle that is, I don’t even know what I’m holding. 

My heart was beating faster the closer I saw the red dot get to the yellow dot which I’m assuming is my house. Then the dot was overlapping the yellow one, and five seconds later I heard wood splintering as my front door was kicked in. 

“Shit, they have Alberto with them,” Mitch said.

He cracked open the bathroom door, standing up and looking around the corner of the door. I hid behind the door, wanted nothing more than to wake up from what I was still convinced to be a dream. 

I heard a big, loud guy upstairs talk to his partners, it sounded like there were four of them in total. 

“You, check there, you, go down the hall, you, check all the small places he’s small and knows how to hide, I’ll check downstairs. Kill on sight, and kill anyone you see.” he said. 

Then booming footsteps came down the stairs, and Mitch opened the door a little bit more. 

“Remember, stay here, don’t shoot if you don’t need to, but shoot anyone in this house that isn’t me that comes through this door. They won’t hesitate Scott,” Mitch said. 

I nodded and he left the bathroom, crouching behind my bed. I was watching the scene unfold through the crack right above the second door hinge. 

My bedroom door was kicked open by who I’m assuming is Alberto. Mitch still didn’t move, I was shaking so hard my teeth were almost chattering. 

“Come on out Peanut, I know you’re here,” Alberto said. 

Alberto didn’t come into the room further, he stood there waiting for Mitch to come out. I could tell Mitch was thinking, waiting to see what he would do so he knew how to act. The little crack was so small I couldn’t really tell what Alberto looked like. But his body looked like the human version of a bulldog. 

“Come on Peanut, I’ve been tryna clip you for a long time now, are you gonna lemme do it?” 

I put my hand on the door so get a better angle and it creaked. Mitch closed his eyes in frustration and looked in my direction. I held my breath. 

“There you are peanut,” Alberto said. 

He came walking towards the door and I saw that he didn’t carry a big gun like Mitch’s but carried a pistol instead. 

“Fuck,” Mitch whispered. 

He popped up from behind the bed and then gun shots were the last thing I heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter! @1_Pentaholic


	3. Running

I shut my eyes, waiting for the horrible sounds to stop. They did when I heard a gun trigger being pulled, but the clicking signifying me, and everyone else, that the gun was out of bullets. 

“Aww look at that Peanut, you’re out of bullets,” Alberto said. 

I looked through the crack in the door again. I saw Mitch trying to think quickly, giving himself options and figuring out strategy. Alberto took a step towards him, and I raised my gun, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it. If this guy took one more step I would. Suddenly, Mitch put the safety on, and grabbed the barrel of the gun, swinging it so it smashed into the side of the guys head. There was blood everywhere, and he was bleeding fast. I could see the color drain from Alberto’s face, and soon he hit the floor. I tentatively came out. 

“Um, why aren’t the other people coming down to see what’s going on?” 

“They’re instructed to keep searching for other people that could potentially be in the building,” he walked past me and into the bathroom. 

He put another magazine into his gun and took the safety off. 

“Follow me, and stay close behind,” he said, looking me in the eye until I nodded. 

He zipped up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and started towards the door. I followed, very closely behind. 

We crawled up the steps and looked out into the living rooms, other men were busy searching for someone they weren’t going to find. 

Mitch pulled what looked to be a black grenade from a belt I wasn’t aware he even had on. I grabbed his elbow before he could pull the pin. 

“You’re not blowing up the house,” I whispered harshly. 

“Just relax,” he responded, pulling the pin and rolling it out to the other men. 

It started releasing huge clouds of smoke. The smoke was so thick I couldn’t even see Mitch in front of my anymore. He grabbed me and pulled me up the rest of the stairs, and through the house, and out of the front door. I could hear a lot of coughing, and cursing as we were leaving. 

Mitch pulled keys out of his pocket and got into an SUV, like the ones you see the bad guys driving in the movies. 

I got into the passenger side and he started the car, screeching away from my house which now had white smoke pouring out of the front door.  
We drove for about a minute so the adrenaline could come down. 

“Scott_” 

“No, Mitch. I know that voice. Don’t try and hit me with a fucking excuse. I want to know what’s going on this second or you’re taking me to the airport and I’m boarding the first flight to Texas,” I said. 

“Ok. Ok, fine I’ll tell you, just not here.” 

He drove for another fifteen minutes before he pulled into an abandoned Motel 7 parking lot. He didn’t saying anything as he got out of the car and pulled out what looked to be a room key. 

“This place is abandoned, why do you need a key?” 

“Keep people out of my room,” he said, opening the door. 

We went inside and I sat on the bed and he was looking around, avoiding my eyes. 

“So how have you been?” He started. 

“Mitch,” I said, harshly. 

“Ok, fine. I knew this would happen eventually. So it all happened two years ago…"


	4. Back Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cugine: a young soldier striving to be made.
> 
> G: a grand; a thousand dollars.
> 
> boss: the head of the Family who runs the show. He decides who gets made and who gets whacked. The boss also gets points from all Family business.
> 
> captain: a capo.
> 
> crew: the group of soldiers under the capo's command.

“So it all happened two years ago. Remember when my identity got stolen? My social security number, credit cards, passwords, everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Turns out the kid that stole all my shit was a cugine and he didn’t want to be in the mafia anymore.” 

“Ok, keep going,” I said making myself comfortable on his dusty bed. 

“Ok, well he was in the drug part of the business and his drugs got stolen. Which means he was out a couple of ‘G’s. This made the boss really angry so he somehow tricked the boss into thinking I was him. The boss doesn’t associate with the cugine so that’s why he was able to successfully switch our lives. When he made the switch he completely killed of his old name and life and made another one. Ever since then Alberto, he’s the capo, and his crew have been after me to get the money back.”   
“Mitch you could have easily paid that why didn’t you do it?” 

“Because when my identity got stolen that little shit kid, still don’t know who he is, drained my bank account, so I couldn’t.” He explained, finally sitting on the dusty, old comforter with me. 

“Why did you come back? Why me? Why not Kirstie?” 

“Because, I needed someone that can read me in an instant, knows what I’m trying to say, and I’m sorry I brought you into this but I couldn’t do it by myself. The underboss is after me now.” 

“So just pay the money and come home.” 

“It’s more than just the money now Scott, I’ve killed a few of their people, I’m not getting out of this clean,” he said. 

“Wow, just hearing you say that makes me think that I’m still dreaming,” I said. 

Just the thought of Mitch KILLING someone is crazy. He’s here, mixed up with the Mafia, with a bag full of guns, and having killed a few people. 

“This is so hard to process.” 

“I know Scotty, and I’m sorry,” he said. 

“I’m so glad you’re home,” I said, the tears falling again. 

Mitch wrapped me in a tight hug again. 

“I love you so much, and I missed you,” he said. 

“I missed you too,” I said. 

I felt the need to kiss him and I did. It wasn’t really romantic at that moment, but I needed him to know how much I missed him, and loved him, and was glad that he was there. 

Mitch was the only thing that I needed.


	5. The Process of Getting Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUNS ARE NOT A JOKE, AND ARE NOT TOYS. Yes, I'm writing about them, but if you don't know how to use them, or aren't around someone that knows how to use one, do not pick it up. Stay Safe!

Mitch and I spent the rest of the night catching up. Well more like him telling me about his life because he’d obviously been caught up on mine. Mitch had been through some shit in the past two years. 

The first time he killed someone was a complete accident, and also the reason he got the scar on his face. He had been kidnapped for the first time by the mafia. He had been tied and abused for a couple of days. He finally figured out how to get out, but he wouldn’t tell me how. I guess after he got out he found a gun and shot someone that was keeping guard of the room he was in. His partner turning and cutting him with the knife, and Mitch shot him after. 

No one heard the shots. He was in the basement how could they have heard? He took the smaller one’s clothes. Found the nearest bathroom and shaved his mustache and head. Then he just simply walked out, no one noticed the dripping gash on his forehead, or at least they didn’t care too much about it. 

I was fascinated listening to all of his stories, they had come straight out of a movie. Soon after I could tell Mitch was getting hungry because he was getting antsy and a little irritated. 

“Want to go get some food?” 

“I have some in my bag,” and he pointed to his duffle on the floor. 

I went over and opened one of the smaller bags, pulling out two granola bars, and an eight ounce Gatorade. 

“Is this what you’ve been eating for the last two years?” 

“Obviously not, I’ve had fruit snacks and water too.” 

That little shit, I can’t stand him. 

I put the dry school food back in the bag and zipped it up. I pulled out my wallet and counted my cash. 

“I’ll be back,” I said, closing my wallet and putting it in my back pocket as I turn toward the door.

I hear the bed creak and suddenly Mitch is grabbing onto my arm. 

“Are you fucking crazy? You can’t go out there!” 

“Mitch no one saw me out there I’m fine, I’ll be right back.” 

He stopped me again. 

“They know who lives in the house, Scott, they always know.” 

“I haven’t been home all day. I was getting food after a long meeting and heading home.”   
“At least take a gun with you,” he said. 

“Are you fucking serious? No way! What if a fan asks for a picture and they feel it in my waistband or something?” 

“You put it in your boot, I won’t let you leave without one.” 

I decided to comply. I wanted to get Mitch some real food, and I really wanted some In-N-Out. 

He unzipped his duffel and gave me the pistol that I had earlier. At least I think it was a pistol? Was that a pistol? What does a pistol look like? I’ll have to have Mitch give me a run down of all the guns sometime. 

He showed me how to turn the safety on and off which was actually pretty easy. I had expected it to be a process and it was actually just a little switch. He put the safety back on and put it in my boot for me, and putting my pant leg over both of them which he knew I hated but I wasn’t about to put a weapon in my waistband. 

“Don’t come straight here when you get the food.” 

“Why not?” 

“Someone might follow you, go to the house first, call the police because your door was kicked in, stay there until they tell you to leave, and then come here.” 

“Mitch-” 

“I’m not kidding Scott, you haven’t seen what I have, these people are the real deal and you need to think things through. Your life won’t be the same anymore and I’ve thought about this for months before I brought you into it. I just can’t do it alone anymore and I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Ok, ok fine. I’ll get food, and go to the house. Is there a number I can call you on?” 

“No, but I’ve got a tracker on you,” he said casually. 

“How long have you had a tracker on me?” I asked. 

“About a year and eight months.” 

“WHAT? How did you get in on me? How is it still on me?” I asked. 

“It’s actually in you. I put it in one of your drinks.” 

“How the hell did I not notice you?” 

“You were drunk, I slipped in and slipped out. I have them on everyone: you, Kirstie, my parents, my sister, Kevin, Matt, even Avi, a couple other friends.” 

“I’m not sure if I should be mad or not,” I was shocked, I didn’t actually know what to say. 

“You probably should be, but I put them on you guys to keep you safe. So I could stay away from you guys when things were getting really messy, a number of reasons.” 

Still dumbfounded I took the keys to the SUV and left the Motel 7, and went to the In-N-Out down the street. 

It was busy inside as it usually was, this one was a particularly popular high school hang out. It even looked like there was going to be a dance tonight, most of the kids being dressed up and with dates, awkwardly looking at one another over their burgers. 

I stood in line for a good five minutes and ordered my favorite and what I hoped was still Mitch’s favorite. 

I waited by the counter to be given my order and then they walked in. 

I tensed up immediately but I knew I had to keep my cool. I felt the gun in my boot so I felt safe but there was no way I was going to use it here, not with all these kids that just want to eat before a dance. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up twitter, sending out a tweet and getting all of those ‘oh my god scott is online’ replies. Most people were posting Mitch memorial posts and I almost forgot it was the anniversary today. 

Then one of them came up to me. It wasn’t Alberto, in fact Alberto wasn’t even with them.

“Hey are you Sean Hoying? In that a capella group right?” 

“It’s Scott, but yeah,” I said, making sure to keep my voice as even as possible. 

“Dude my kids love you! Mind if I have a picture?” 

I shook my head and took his phone taking the selfie for him. 

He thanked me and walked away. He went back over to his group and they all smacked him. He looked confused and I noticed one of them whisper to him. He didn’t notice he kicked open the door to my house almost three hours ago now. 

Then they all looked at me, I felt their stares burning into the side of my head but I didn’t look back at them. Finally my number was called and I took my white paper bag and left. They looked at me the whole way out the door. 

I decided it was probably better to not use the SUV that I drove here. I didn’t know if it belonged to Mitch or if it was a car Mitch stole from them. I also didn’t know if it had a tracker on it. I decided to call an uber and take it to my house, I was confident Mitch was looking at my tracker since I left and if the three inside took me somewhere Mitch would come get me. 

I sat at a table outside and waited for my uber, it should be here in about five minutes. For LA traffic that’s actually pretty good. Then they came out and sat at the other one. Their stares bore into me, but I had to pretend to not notice. I pulled out my phone again and went to twitter. I posted a Mitch memorial tweet, thanking everyone for the support, and how I thought of him everyday, and added a little something about car crash awareness. Then I went through collages people have made for Mitch, liking a few. I also took to the RIPMITCH hashtag and just went down the timeline, liking some posts, and commenting on a few of the more heartfelt ones. I also liked all of our friends and families posts about Mitch and commented on them telling them how much I loved them. 

I felt dirty doing this. I literally bought Mitch a burger and here everyone else was mourning today as the day he died, when it was actually kind of the day he was reborn. For me at least. I got the notification that my uber was here and I put my phone back in my pocket, getting in the car and the uber left. 

I tried not to turn around to look out the window often but I had to see if they were following me. It didn’t look like they were but I wasn’t taking any chances. The uber pulled up to my house and I thanked them, letting them drive away. I noticed a car with three people inside show up right after the uber left. So they did follow me. 

I went up to my door and pulled out my keys as I usually did. The car stopped a few houses down, watching me. I stopped in my tracks, pretending to just now notice that my door was smashed open. Some splinters from the wood on the concrete porch. I looked around, and slowly backed away from the door and pulled out my phone. 

I went across the street and sat on the sidewalk as I called the police like Mitch instructed. 

“911 what is your emergency.” 

“I think someone broke in, my front door is kicked in,” I said. 

“How long ago did this happen?” 

“I don’t know I’ve been gone all day.”   
“What is the address?” 

I gave it to her. 

“Okay, police are on the way.” 

And she hung up. I sat there waiting, and so did the car. The three men weren’t actively looking at me, but it was still unsettling. They had at least turned off their car so it didn’t look like they were sitting, waiting for me to do something they didn’t like. As soon as they saw siren coming through the neighborhood they turned on their car and left. 

I had to talk to the police for a good forty-five minutes until they told me I could leave. They suggested staying with a friend for a day or two. An officer brought me my keys from inside the house and I took my car back to the Motel 7. I parked it in a grocery store parking lot and walked over to the Motel. 

I didn’t even have to knock on the door, he just opened it and quickly pulled me inside and hugged me. 

“They were following you,” he said into my chest. 

“I know, but they didn’t touch me.” I said hugging him back. 

By now the food was cold so I threw the bag into the microwave and heated up the food for thirty seconds. 

When I took it out, I gave Mitch his and he wolfed it down, barely even enjoying it. I was only halfway through mine. 

“Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me you were so hungry? I would have gotten you two.” 

“Because I’d probably get sick if I ate two.” 

“You’re probably right. What's the plan for tomorrow?”

“We need to make a game plan.”


	6. Game Plan..Gone Wrong

I had begged Mitch to show me how to use all of the guns and tell me what each of them were. That was the game plan for the day. He called one of his friends, and he let us into his gun range when it was meant to be closed.

“Hey peanut, who’s this?” The friend asked. 

“Don’t worry about it, how long do we have it for?” 

“All day my friend, I can’t stick around this time, I have stuff to do. When you lock the place put the key in the usual spot, got it?” 

“Yup, thanks.” 

Mitch walked inside, and the guy let out a breath, cupping my shoulder when I tried to walk in. 

“Be careful man, I’m not sure if you know who that guy is but being on his bad side..it's dangerous shit,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you know the kinda heat he’s packing? He’s on the most wanted list in Spain. I don’t even know the guys real name, never have, and I’m not counting on ever knowing it.” 

“Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?” Mitch said, coming half way out the door. 

“Yeah, just giving your friend some pointers, see ya man,” he said and left. 

We went inside and suddenly Mitch didn’t seem like Mitch. He looked like he was in his element. He looked like he was meant to be in this shooting range. He looked dangerous, and suddenly I didn’t feel so safe. I still had the pistol in my boot. Should I dare? I mean, the most wanted list in Spain?! Are you fucking kidding me?

I reached down and grabbed the pistol from my boot and did what Mitch taught me to do when loading it. I held it up, my hand was shaking like crazy. 

“Ok so I guess we can sit right here and I’ll explain everything to you and then we can-” he turned around and saw a gun pointed at him. 

He wasn’t even fazed by my gesture. How many of these has he had held to his head? He scoffed a little. 

“What are you doing?” He said, amused. 

I swallowed. 

“You’re not who I thought you were,” I said, accidentally. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The MOST WANTED LIST, Mitch?!” 

“Scott-” 

“How do I know that you won’t kill me, too huh?” I asked. 

He walked over to me in four steps, grabbing the barrel of my gun and pushing my wrist away from the gun, taking the gun from my hand. He threw it to the side. 

“Because Scott, if I wanted to kill you I would have fucking done it already, I don’t hesitate, I can’t those kinds of risks.” 

I didn’t know what to do. He had snatched my gun from me in less than a second, he could have easily killed me with it after. 

“NEVER, point a gun at me again. I have the same gun as you in the same place, do you have any idea how close I was to grabbing it, and popping you in the head?” 

I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back a little. I couldn’t do this anymore. I had no idea who I was even dealing with anymore. 

I turned and went to go back out the door, but he stopped me. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’m going home, I’m going to get someone to come fix my door, and then I’m selling the house,” I told him. 

“That’s funny,” he said, softly. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said. 

“You’re serious?”

“I am,” I said. 

He looked hurt. More hurt than when I pointed a literal fucking gun at him two minutes ago. 

“Ok, get out while you can then,” he said turning. 

“Mitch.”

“Don’t fucking call me that! It’s not my name anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. Just get the fuck out,” he said. 

I didn’t say another word, as I turned around and left, walking to the nearest restaurant and calling for an uber.


	7. Letting It Slip

I gave the uber driver Kirstie’s address at first, but decided that she can’t know. Just as Mitch wanted to protect me I had to protect her. I gave her my address instead. I needed to go home, but the thought of being alone was nauseating. What if Mitch came back? Would he kill me now that I knew too much? Knowing he was alive was already too much information. 

How do I get that tracker out? Where even is it?

The uber driver wouldn’t stop talking, and I just now paid enough attention to realize she was halfway through a story about that one time in college. I couldn’t care enough to listen though. She pulled up to my house and gasped at the crime scene tape and my kicked in door. 

“Oh, I guess I forgot about that,” I said. 

I don’t think it would be best to stay here anyways. 

“Should I take you somewhere else?” 

I guess I had no choice but to see if Kirstie would let me stay the night. I gave the driver her address, and another thirty minute drive took me to her house. 

I knocked twice on the door, hoping she was home despite everything being dark. She should be, it was just a little after two o’clock, and we had no meetings this morning. 

She opened the door, in her pajamas and the uber driver drove off. She rubbed her eyes, and tried to balance her loose bun back on top of her head. 

“Sorry to interrupt your nap,” I said, not even asking her if I could come in before I did just that. 

“What’s going on Scott?” 

“My house got broken into,” I said maybe a little too calmly. 

“What?! Are you serious? Did they take anything?” 

“I’m not sure, I didn’t go in, but my door is kicked in.” 

“Ok, you can stay here until it’s fixed,” she said, going to the kitchen and grabbing some pretzels and champagne. 

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, gladly accepting the glass. 

“The occasion is that I need to go wine shopping again,” she said sitting on the couch. 

I sat next to her and downed the entire glass. 

“What’s going on Scotty?” 

“It’s just Mitch,” I said accidentally. 

I had forgotten that he was literally dead to everyone except for me. I decided to go with it, I hadn’t actually said anything bad yet. 

“We haven’t talked about it since the funeral,” she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she told me. 

“Do you miss him?” 

“I miss him so much it hurts, I think about him every day. Life just hasn’t been the same without him,” she told me. 

“I’m going to fly to Japan tomorrow,” I said. 

“Umm okay? Why?” 

“Mitch liked it there, and I just need to get out of LA.” 

“But we have that meeting on Friday.” 

“Do it without me then, I just need to breath,” I told her. 

“What’s really going on with you? You’re acting like you saw something you shouldn’t have seen.” 

I didn’t say anything I just shrugged and took her class, draining it too. 

“Please talk to me Scott, I’m always worried about you these days.”

“Nothing is wrong.” 

“You’re still a shit liar,” she said. 

“Why do you insist that I’m lying to you all the time?” 

“Because Scott, Mitch wasn’t the only one that could read you like a fucking book okay! God! You two always left me out of everything. I was still your best friend too and you both acted like I didn’t know you as well as I actually do.” Kirstin said, breaking down in front of me.

“That was never the intention Kirstie, but we lived together, I guess it’s just how it happened, and I’m sorry, for both of us,” I told her. 

I knew that apology wasn’t good enough. I knew it didn’t satisfy her either, but it was the best I got right now. I couldn’t help but feel like we were leaving her out of this too, even if it was for her own good. 

“Can I tell you something, and you need to tell absolutely no one, you have to act like I didn’t even tell you,” I said. 

She looked confused, but nodded, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks. 

I took her hand leading her to the bathroom, and turning on the sink. I had no idea who was outside, but still no one knows that I’ve been with Mitch, I was never seen. I have never seen such a confused look on someone’s face before. I sat on the floor and she sat on the edge of the tub. 

“I need you to be completely open to what I’m about to say, and no I didn’t hit my head, and no I’m not drunk, or lying, I just need you to listen,” I said. 

She nodded so I continued. 

“Mitch...isn’t dead,” I said, very slowly. 

She didn’t say anything, but she turned sheet white, and then she looked like she was going to be sick. I grabbed the trash can and handed it to her. She took it, resting it on her knees but choking it back. 

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s not dead,” her eyes threatening to spill over, her body shaking like mine was a few hours ago. 

“Mitch is alive, but I can’t tell you why, and I can’t let you see him,” I said. 

“What do you mean I can’t see him? How long have you known this Scott!” I could tell she wanted to raise her voice but she didn’t because she knew me turning on the sink meant we should be quiet. 

“I’ve only known for a day or two myself okay,” I said. 

“Why can’t I know why?” 

“The same reason he didn’t tell me until now, to keep you safe. The less you know the better, and that’s it okay?” 

“No, it’s not okay. You expect to come in here, telling me my best friend is still alive and then tell me that’s it?” 

“He’s not who he once was Kirstie, he’s dangerous, that’s why I’m with you and not with him right now because I couldn’t bring myself to trust him,” I said, grabbing one of her hands for the support. 

“What do you mean he’s dangerous?” 

“He has trackers on all of us, he knows where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing, at the push of a button.” 

I’m saying too much. I need to stop, this is dangerous. What if they’re listening? What if HE’S listening and gets mad at me? What if he kicks in the bathroom door and shoots us both because now we both know too much? 

“How did he get fucking trackers on us Scott?” She said, wrapping her arms around her body, feeling too open to the world. 

“I’ve said too much. I think maybe you should go home for a few days. I’m going to go to Japan, let's go tomorrow, yeah?” 

“..Yeah,” she said, dazed. 

I left the bathroom, turning off the water. I borrowed her laptop and bought us two tickets for the same time. 

One for Japan and one for Arlington. I knew she would stay with her parents, and I booked a hotel for a week. Then I called for my door to be fixed, and I called a friend who said they would help the repairman and pay him the money I transferred to his account.

I shouldn’t have told Kirstie. She’s been pacing the kitchen for almost an hour now while I sorted everything out. I even called to cancel our meeting for tomorrow. 

“Kirstie stop pacing you’re making me regret telling you,” I said, loud enough for her to hear. 

“Can I just ask one question?” 

I nodded, knowing she was looking at the back of my head. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Oh yeah he’s fine, it’s everyone else that I’m worried about,” I responded. 

“Why? He doesn’t want to hurt us does he?” 

“I’m not sure. All I know if that I left because I didn’t feel safe, I was not about to put you and everyone else through another loss,” I told her, still typing away at her computer. 

“What good does it do if he trackers on us?” 

“He hasn’t come looking for us before,” I said. 

“Why did he come to you?” 

“He said he needed help.” 

Here I go running my fucking mouth again. She shouldn’t know all of this. 

“You abandoned him when he said he needed your help?”

“I didn’t abandon him, he wasn’t safe to be around,” I said. 

“What did he do then?” 

“I really can’t tell you that,” I said to her, finally learning how to keep my damn mouth shut. 

“Why?” 

“Because I shouldn’t have told you anything in the first place.” 

“What happens if I know?” 

“Can’t tell you that either.”   
She sighed and slumped down into a chair. 

“Why is this so complicated?” 

“I can’t tell you that either.” 

“That one was hypothetical, dummy,” she shot back. 

Where was Mitch right now? Was he following me? Did he go back to the Motel? No, he wouldn’t stay there, he would have moved on by now. I was debating whether it was a good thing or not that I no longer had the gun. I left it right where Mitch tossed it. It was probably best that I had nothing of his with me. 

I pretty much had to force Kirstie to go to bed because she would not stop with the questions. I eventually just took her suitcase from her closet and started packing it myself. I ignored everything she asked me shortly after I started packing for her. I zipped up her suitcase, put it by the front door and set an alarm for us. 

I’ve left many clothes at her house over the years so I packed pretty much everything I had there and decided to just buy the rest in tokyo, not that I would need much. 

I took off my shirt, slipped on my sweatpants and got into bed next to Kirstie.

Kirstie huffed when I turned the light off. 

“You’re frustrating me,” she said, forced to get into bed in the dark now. 

“I’m the frustrating one? You’ve been mercilessly asking me questions for the past two hours,” I said. 

“I didn’t even get anyone to watch my babies,” she said. 

“I took care of it,” I told her. 

“Who did you get?” 

“Nicole, obviously,” I said. 

“Scott-” 

“Kirstie, I love you, but shut the hell up and go to sleep. I got our flights for six which means we need to be up at four.”

“This is my last question,” she said. 

I huffed, telling her I would listen. 

“I know I asked this earlier, but is Mitch really okay?” 

“I honestly don’t know Kirst,” I said rolling onto my back. 

She cuddled into my side, finally letting silence falling over us. I fell asleep, with her next to me, and thinking about what I’m going to do in Tokyo.


	8. The Flight to Japan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know it's been forever and I'm horrible, I'm sorry. Even I had to read the fic over to know what was going on. I'll try to be more on top of it considering its summer now.

We woke up bright and early, before Kirstin’s alarm even went off. Neither of us could sleep, she was tossing and turning all night and I couldn’t help but feel scared that Mitch would come into her house and kill us for knowing what we did.

Was I really that scared of Mitch? I’ve known him for years, but I hadn’t seen him in two and obviously a lot happened in two years. What exactly did he do in Spain to earn a spot on the most wanted list? Should I have asked him? 

I have thought about calling the police literally six times, but if people knew he was alive there would be an uproar in the fandom. A lot of publicity lost for the group. Tabloids would say we faked our arguably most popular members’ death in order to get more light. That’s a story the media would eat up in a heartbeat, and we’d hear it on the news for at least a week. In magazines for much longer. 

I couldn’t call them because it would ruin us. It would ruin him. If people knew he was out there they would undoubtedly look for him, and ruin every plan he’s made since he ‘died’. 

He hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to hurt me yet though. But I’ve also been holed up in Kirstie’s house for the last sixteen hours, and I didn’t dare look out the windows. 

Kirstie and I were getting dressed when he alarm went off, and she shut it off while i went into her bathroom. I knew she kept spare toothbrushes under her sink so I took one, and brushed my teeth. She came in after. 

“Should I bother with a shower?” 

I looked at her, she looked fine. 

“Nah.” 

“When was the last time you showered Scott?” 

“I’ll shower in Japan,” I told her. 

“Scott you can’t be scared of him. What does all those years of friendship mean if it can all be taken away in two days?” 

“Kirstie, if you saw him you would have different feelings.” 

“Maybe I would Scott but you haven’t even told me what you saw that’s so bad! Like shit is he a fucking hit man or something? Working for the FBI? CIA?” she was throwing extra toiletries into a bag. 

“Please stop asking me, you’re making it harder to not tell you!” 

“Then just tell me Scott!” she pleaded. 

“I will tell you, just not until I know we’re both safe.” 

“Then I’ll go with you to Japan, and you can tell me there,” she decided. 

“No, you’re not going to Japan. If he has to pick one of us to chase he’ll pick me.” 

“Do you have to go all the way to Japan though? Why not go to New York, or Florida?” 

“It’s hard to find anyone in Japan.” 

“Yes it will be so hard to find a six foot tall white male in Japan,” she argued. 

“You’ve been to Japan Kirst, you know how many people there are. Remember when you lost me in Japan and you literally freaked out? It’s not that easy to find me.” 

“He has a tracker on you, he’ll know where you are anyways.” 

“Why are you arguing with me?” 

“Because Scott! You’re scaring the hell out of me.” 

“Everything will be fine. Especially with you okay? I shouldn’t have told you.” 

I walked out of the bathroom, throwing my still wet toothbrush into my bag, because why not take it? 

She came out and hugged me. I squeezed her super hard. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I don’t want to be scared of my friends.” 

“I know.” 

“What does he even look like these days?” she let go, putting her toiletry bag in her suitcase.

“Baby fringe, with a huge ass scar going from his forehead to the corner of his left eye,” I told her. 

“Where did he get a scar?” 

I looked at her. 

“Right.” 

“We should get going, our flights are leaving soon.” 

She nodded picking up her suitcase and grabbing her keys because uber’s don’t usually drive around so early in the morning. I picked up mine and took one last look at her house. 

I’ve always loved this house, it was a good one and I was so jealous when she bought it. She kissed her dogs goodbye and then shut the door, locking it and giving me the keys. 

I opened her trunk putting both of our bags in the back and then getting into the driver side door. The drive to LAX wasn’t that strenuous so early in the morning, and I parked her car at the top of the parking garage. 

We walked in the airport together, just having casual conversation. I told her in the ride over here that would shouldn’t talk about Mitch in public, but I could see her cautiously looking around. 

“Nervous about your flight?” I asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

Yeah it really was. She was almost shaking, but that could always be dismissed as her being cold. We both knew I wasn’t talking about the flight. I really shouldn’t have told her, but who else would I have told if it wasn’t her? 

We checked in. Got scanned, and X-rayed and then I walked her to her gate. 

“Well, this is me.” she said looking at the ticket and the gate number. 

“Ew it sounds like we’re on a date,” I pointed out. 

We both laughed. She gave me a huge hug and I squeezed her back. I didn’t want her to feel like she was in danger. 

“If you don’t come home in two weeks, I’m flying to Japan, you hear me?” 

I nodded. I knew she’d make me promise something like this. Though if I went missing in Japan i’d be long gone in two weeks, but it’s not like she needed to know that. Then the announcement came that her plane was starting to board and mean mine was probably boarding too. I hugged her again, kissed her cheek, grabbed my luggage, and ran down the hall to my gate. 

I was still a little early. They were starting to board the elderly and the disabled who couldn’t be rushed. I sat to catch my breath, even though it wouldn’t be for long. I wished desperately for a tracker on Mitch, something so I knew where he was. I’m not even sure he was in California anymore, he could have taken the first flight out of here like I am. 

They called for business class to get on, and I wished in that moment that I was business class. I really needed the alcohol right now that I couldn’t get in coach. It could wait until Japan. At least that’s what I thought until I realized that Japan was literally an 11 hour flight. I groaned as I waited to be called. It was a nonstop flight too, so it's not like I could just get off at a layover and stay. Though I wish I could. I could always just not get on this flight. 

Was there even a mafia to worry about in Japan? Probably if someone worth chasing is there. 

She called for the coach seats, and did I get on? 

Of course I did.


	9. Japan

I’ve been in Japan for a week, and still no sign of Mitch. Or was it Peanut now? How did he even get a name like that to begin with? Is it just something given to you? Do you pick it? But Mitch never associated anything to peanuts. He never particularly liked peanuts either. 

I had never been to Japan alone and might I say it was quite boring. I usually went with groups of people and we felt like we were taking over all of Tokyo, but this time it was just me, hiding. I spent most of my time in my hotel room. I went to actual grocery stores instead of restaurants so I didn’t have to stay out for all that long. I went out a few times but the nerves of being caught actually made me sick. 

Kirstie was right, I stuck out like a sore thumb here even if I didn’t realize it before. I was much more aware at the amount of people staring at me while i was walking through downtown. Not to mention a lot of our fanbase was in Japan, and I kept getting stopped in public and asked for pictures. Obviously those were on twitter in the next 30 seconds, and I knew because I was tagged in them. When I was asked for one, I knew it was time to hide again. Even though Mitch had a tracker on me, I don’t think anyone else did and I wasn’t sure who was looking for me, if anyone. 

Why was I scared so much? Was it the thought of people actually dying, and that this wasn’t a game anymore? I had been DMing Kirsin back and forth, she had made it to Arlington and today was her flight back to LA. I was thinking about taking a flight into England, but it was far too tiny, and not enough people in one place. 

I would stay in Japan until she told me to come back and she actually threatened to come to Japan and drag my ass out of it. 

It was cherry blossom season too, and I was mad at myself for being too paranoid to see it. 

I was on my way to another little grocery store to get a microwave meal for the night. As I was paying at the register, a girl came in and she recognized me. I couldn’t deny a picture and then I saw her typing away at her phone. My phone buzzed, she had taken the picture and posted it in literally less than ten seconds. I smiled sadly at the kind old man who had taken care of me for many nights, and put a few yen in his tip jar. This was the last time I could come to this store. 

Leaving the store I walked quickly back to my hotel room. I felt that tonight would be the night that someone would come for me, if people were coming at all. 

I made it to the room, and immediately threw my meal in the microwave. After looking up the directions in english I was a pro at making whatever it was I was making. It was good, but I’ve been having the same thing every night for the past week, but that’s all that store offered. There was another store close by and I would be going there for the second week unless another fan saw me there. 

I ate my food, and then I jumped in the shower. Japanese showers were weird, and I wasn’t allowed to keep the water running the whole time I was in the shower, but it was better than nothing. I didn’t care about turning the water off this time though, I just wanted a normal shower, where I could think about shower thoughts and not about how long its been since I shut the water off. 

It was nice. I oddly felt at home taking this shower. Should I take an early flight back home? I didn’t need to be here for another week. Besides who goes to a foreign country for two weeks alone? I wasn’t concerned about the money either, I was ready to cancel the ticket I had and get a one way back to LA. 

Ok, I was going to do that. I was going to go back home tomorrow. 

I turned off the water, grabbed my ridiculously tiny towel and dried myself off. I slipped on my sweatpants but didn’t bother with a shirt. 

I walked out of the the bathroom, and was about to go book my ticket for tomorrow. 

But…

“Oh shit.”


	10. Getting to the Plane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say again that guns are NOT toys. If you are not comfortable handling guns DON'T HANDLE ONE. If you are not experienced with a gun and are not around someone who is DON'T PICK ONE UP. Be safe :) Everything in this fic is purely fictional.

I knew my gut feeling was right. I knew someone would be coming after me. I knew I wasn’t going to be alone, and that actually escaping was damn near impossible until I figured out how to get the tracker out of my system. 

There was no point in trying to go back into the bathroom to hide, it had no lock on it. I was not about to run out of the room and cause a bigger scene. I suppose it could be worse.

“Nice to see you too ‘Phantom’,” Mitch said, sat comfortably on my bed. 

“What did you just call me?” 

“Phantom. It’s the name you were given I guess. You left too late in the game,” he told me. 

“I was with you for two days, if that,” I clarified. 

“Yeah but enough for the mafia to put tabs on you. Curious as to why the name is Phantom?” 

I didn’t say anything, just focused on keeping my breathing even. 

“They chose Phantom because they can’t seem to find you. You’re the reason Japan is crawling with mafia Scott, but they can’t pinpoint you because you move around too quickly. You’re starting to piss them off,” he told me, getting up and walking towards me.

I guess Japan was the right place to go then. I move fast, and there are too many people. 

“I don’t want a name, I’m not like you,” I backed away one step. 

“Don’t you think I fucking know that Scott? It’s my fault for getting you into this mess, but now you went and almost got Kirstin in it too. You do realize they followed her around Arlington for two days right?” 

I froze. They followed Kirstie? Was it because she’s friends with me?

“Why?” 

“Because they’re trying to find me, and the best and easiest way to do it right now is through you,” he clarified. 

“Why are you following me then if I’m the easiest way to find you?” 

“Because I’m your friend Scott, why did you ever think I was actually going to hurt you?” 

“Because Mitch, you were in this...zone at the range. You weren’t you anymore. I have no idea why you’re on that most wanted list, and I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish by bringing me into this,” I admitted.

“I WANT OUT! I can’t be in this anymore! I want people to know I’m still here, I want people to know that I’m alive. I WANT to sing and go on tour again. I tried to do it without you and I can’t okay? I can’t because I’m not strong enough and I’m scared that they’ll have to dig up that grave again to put my actual body in it! You think I haven’t seen it? I go every fucking year to watch my parents visit me on my birthday and sob their fucking eyes out.” 

He was sobbing at this point. All of this was a shell, and this meant the Mitch I knew was still in there. I pulled him into me, hugging the pain out of him. He was as scared as I was in all this. He just wanted to come home and have to opportunity to live his life again. 

“Ok, we’ll get you out, but on one condition,” I said, still holding him close. 

He hummed in question. 

“You have to at least see Kirstin,” I demanded. 

“I don’t want her in this,” he argued. 

“I don’t either, but she knows, and she has to see you,” I said. 

“Ok, I can make that happen,” he said. 

He had finally stopped crying, and now I was just holding him. 

“How did you get here? No way you got your duffle on the plane,” I inquired. 

“I know a guy, we’re leaving tonight, pack up lets go,” he demanded, turning back into his new macho self. 

Now that I really looked at Mitch, he looked exhausted. He was slouching, he had bags under his eyes, his short hair was sticking up, his shirt was the most wrinkled I’ve ever seen a shirt, I think even one of his shoes was untied. 

“No, we’ll leave in the morning, you need to sleep,” I told him. 

“What are you talking about? I’m well rested,” he insisted. 

“No, you’re exhausted, look at you.” 

I motioned my hand up and down his body. 

“You’re one to talk, when was the last time you had more than two hours a night?” 

“Have you been watching me at night too?” 

“What else am I going to be doing in Japan?” 

“That’s just….Mitch you can’t watch me like that.” 

“Oh yeah? What are you scared that I’ll see? Or have already seen? Better watch your back Phantom, I know who you think about late at night when you’re all alone.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. 

“Oh I don’t?” He said, getting dangerously close. 

I took a step back. 

“No you don’t, I thought we were leaving yeah? Can I pack please?” I said. 

I turned away from him, going to my suitcase and starting to haphazardly throw clothes into it. I still didn’t have a shirt on and I felt too open to him now. I took a dirty one from the case and threw it on. It was inside out, but at least it was on. 

“Am I really making you that nervous?” Mitch said, pulling on the tag. 

“No, I just want to go home,” I stated, walking to the bathroom, ripping the tag from his hand. 

I started tossing my toiletries into the bag I brought them in, but I didn’t bother with the stuff the hotel provided for me. I didn’t bother brushing my teeth tonight either, but I knew I had gum somewhere; not that I was too concerned about it. 

“Actually before we go, mind if I take a shower...Phantom,” he said. 

“Stop calling me that,” I said. 

I didn’t like it. The name made me feel dirty. 

“I have to, when you’re associated with me your name isn’t Scott anymore. I can’t introduce you with your real name, even though it’s not too hard to find,” he said, taking off his shirt. 

I was horrified. When he turned his back to me his skin was nothing but scars. He had burns and cuts and what looked like a few whip marks. Someone had even cut their initials into him, it was small but no doubt degrading. 

“Mitch…” 

“What? Oh those? Happened a long time ago, they don’t hurt anymore,” he said, turning back to me so I didn’t have to look at them. 

I stepped over to him and turned him around. I couldn’t help but touch them. The abuse he went through, and how much stronger he is because of it, not that that’s any excuse for it, abuse is disgusting. His back was warm, and pretty toned too. 

“So if I’m wrong about who you think about, do you want to correct me?” 

“Nope.” 

“So I’m right?” 

“No, I don’t think about anyone,” I corrected. 

He turned around again to face me. Is he testing me? Why is he coming on so suddenly? He was super close, and I almost did it. I almost kissed him. 

“I thought you wanted to take a shower, hurry up I want to go home,” I said, turning him around again and pushing him towards the bathroom. 

He smirked and went in, shutting the door. He left his duffel bag on my bed and I couldn’t help but be curious about it. I went over to it, and unzipped one of the side pockets. All of his little tracking things were in there. I picked up the one labeled ‘Scott’. 

There was a yellow dot and a red dot on the screen. The yellow dot was me, and the red dot was the mafia, I guess. They were close, but not so close that they obviously knew where I was. I took out Kirstin’s, and her dot was at her house, and she had no red dots in the area. I could breath a sigh of relief, they had backed off. There were a few more but the other one that caught my eye was the one labeled Mafia. It was a bunch of different colored dots on it, in all different parts of the world. Most of them were in Europe, a good chunk of them in Los Angeles, and a crap ton in Tokyo because of me right now. 

I wonder if they know Mitch has them tracked. 

There was only one blue dot though. I had to assume that was either the boss, or the guy that kicked open my front door. I put the trackers back and unzipped the big pocket. 

All of the guns were in here. He had five of them, six if you count the one Mitch undoubtedly had in the bathroom with him. 

The pistol he gave me, and others that I had no idea what they were. I never gave him the chance to teach me. 

I picked up the pistol, unloading the magazine how he taught me too and putting it back in. I tried to pull the top part back, but I still couldn’t get the hang of it. 

“It’s easier if you push the hand grip forward, and pull the slide back, instead of just trying to pull the slide,” he said coming up behind me, “like this.” 

He put his hands over mine and pulled the top part which I just learned is the slide, and pushed the hand grip forward all in one swift motion. This was a loaded gun in my hand now. I tensed and I knew he felt it. 

“Hey you see this right here?” 

“Yeah.” 

He was pointing to a little tab looking thing on the left side of the gun. 

“That’s the safety remember? It’s on, while it can still shoot it’s highly unlikely.” 

I nodded. His hand was still on mine. 

“See how your hand isn’t on the trigger either? A gun can’t shoot itself.” 

I nodded. 

“There is bullet in the chamber and we want it out,” he said. 

I nodded vigorously. 

“Ok so we’re going to press this button right here and the magazine is going to fall out, ok good. Now we’re going to rack the slide a few times until it comes out,” he pulled back the slide until it came out onto the bed, “now she’s not loaded,” he said. 

He took the bullet and put it back into the magazine so it could still be used. Then the pressure of him on my back was gone, and the tops of my hands were cold where he left them. I put the pistol and the magazine back into his duffel and zipped it up.

I turned and he was dressed with slightly damp hair. 

“Ready?” 

“You really need to sleep,” I insisted. 

“No, I need to get you home. Kirstin will freak if you’re not back by tomorrow won’t she?” 

“I have a few more days,” I responded. 

He picked up his duffel and then left the room. I knew I had to follow, so I took my suitcase and dragged it behind me out of the room. He was already in the elevator and I just barely made it before it shut on me. 

He was quiet, observant, cold. I could tell he was non trusting of the guy also in the elevator with us. He stepped in front of me, but also put himself between me and the Japanese man with us. I could see him very gently pulling up his pant leg, enough to grab the gun in his shoe without it getting tangled in his pant leg. 

The elevator was on the second floor and he pushed me back to the wall, and he was very close, almost hiding behind the wall. He was going to let the man get out first. If they were waiting for us they would be looking at doors, elevators, and stairs. 

First floor. The man got out. No commotion. Mitch got out and seamlessly turned the corner, I tried to be a stealth as him. I followed, close behind, turning a left at another corner and going out a back door. A car was waiting, with the trunk popped open. He threw his duffle in it. He unzipped and pulled out the gun, jamming the magazine in it. He put it in my shoe, I didn’t want it there but with Mitch I had no choice. 

He shut the door and I got in the car first. I slid all the way past the driver seat. American car. 

Then a gun was pointed at my head. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

Mitch got in the car, grabbed the man’s wrist and painfully twisting it. 

“Fuck! I didn’t know he was with you Peanut!” Mitch let go. 

“What’s your name?” 

“S-“

“Phantom,” Mitch cut in. 

I guess not even friends get real names. 

“Cool, the name’s Rocky. Where am I taking you Peanut?” 

“Where ever Falcon and his plane are tonight.” 

“What makes you think I know?” 

Mitch gave him eyes in the mirror that say ‘because you always know and you better stop fucking around’. 

Rocky laughed and started driving off. 

Next thing I know Mitch’s head was on my lap. I instinctively started threading my fingers through his short hair. In a few short minutes his breathing evened out and he was sleeping. 

“Wow, he must trust you with his life,” Rocky said looking in the rear view mirror. 

“What?” 

Mitch sleeps on everyone, this isn’t new. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him sleep, and we shared a hotel room for a night in Paris,” he said. 

I looked down at Mitch. He’s slept on me at home when he didn’t feel good, in the car between meetings, that one time when he was really sick and in the waiting room at the doctors office. 

“I’ve known him for a long time,” I simply said. 

“Does that mean you know his actual name?” he asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror. 

“Why would I tell you?” I said, trying to channel the new Mitch energy.

“Good point, I’m not affiliated with the Mafia anymore, so Rocky is my real name. Was always curious about this one. Wouldn’t even tell me his past profession,” he explained. 

“What makes you think he had one?” 

“No one is born into this life Phantom.” 

I looked out the window, we were driving on a crowded street, but I didn’t know where. I didn’t recognize this part of town, maybe it was because it was dark. 

This man being an American though was driving an American car, presumably used to American streets. So when Rocky turned and accidentally pulled into the right lane and not the left, horns went blaring from everywhere. 

Mitch was awake in a millisecond, gun in hand, pointing it at the windshield. He was breathing heavy, and very confused. He had a protective hand on my neck and was pushing me down so I was pretty much folded in half. 

“Woah Peanut calm down, just horns, this isn’t America,” Rocky said from the front seat, calm as he pulled into the correct lane. 

He was still alert so I reached up for his left arm, to lower his gun, he didn’t like that and flipped on me. I had a gun pointed at me, and Rocky was still driving. Both of my hands were by my ears, and I didn’t say a word. Mitch was calm enough, and finally put it down and back in his boot. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it was just car horns,” I said cautiously. 

“Hey we’re almost at the airport,” Rocky said over his shoulder to us.

Mitch didn’t lay his head back on my lap, he sat up on his side of the car, back straight as a board (lol). His jaw was tight with stress, his hands surprisingly relaxed in his lap. He was back to the Mitch that I didn’t know, and suddenly I was afraid to talk to him again. 

I was starting to sweat in the backseat. Was I the only one that felt the tension in the air? Rocky was whistling in the front seat, and Mitch was sitting tensely, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be in this car anymore, I wanted to disappear again, something I was apparently good at. 

A soft beeping noise could be heard, and it was coming from Mitch’s duffle. 

“Shit.” He said under his breath. 

He leaned down to pull out one of the beeping trackers. It was the one with my name labeled on it, these things beep now? 

“What?” I said, leaning over to look at my tracker.

The screen was lighting up, and there were a lot of mafia colored dots surrounding my dot on the center of the screen. 

“Are they here?” 

“Not on our tail, but too close for comfort,” Mitch responded. 

“What’s the word, Peanut?” Rocky asked from the front seat, eyes shifting to the rearview mirror. 

“Step on it Rocky, we need to get on that plane,” he said putting the tracker back. 

He took his gun out and put it on his lap. 

“Please have your gun ready.” 

“You serious?” 

“Dead.” 

I hated having this stupid gun on me. It was basically burning my ankle. It was hard and clunky, it banged against my ankle every time I walked. It made me paranoid that people would see it, that a FAN would see it. How would they feeling knowing I had a gun strapped to my ankle pretty much all the time lately? 

Probably wouldn’t be too supportive. 

I sighed, taking the gun from its place against my ankle. The barrel was warm from being in my boot. The rest of the gun wasn’t as warm as the barrel but not as cold as metal usually is. As much as I hated having it around and on me, it was starting to feel familiar in my hands. 

Mitch’s was so familiar that he named his! I didn’t know all of them though. Next time at the gun range I would know though. 

“At the airport Peanut, it doesn’t look like anyone is here,” Rocky said.

“I’m sure they’re here, there’s always someone.” 

Rocky pulled up as close to the plane as possible. I honestly expected a crappy cargo plane, but this thing was a full on private jet. It was small, and white, chic too. I couldn’t help but be surprised, Mitch didn’t seem like the type to want to stand out lately, but this plane doesn’t exactly scream privacy. 

“Is this the plane?” I asked. 

“Yeah, Falcon is pretty….successful, just don’t ask about his business,” Rocky responded. 

Mitch was looking out the window, waiting to see something, anything that he should probably shoot at. I leaned down and took a peak at the tracker that he placed back in the duffle. 

“There’s no one around Mi-” he slapped his mouth over mine. 

He glared at me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I looked at the tracker or if it was because I almost said his real name. Probably the latter if I had to guess.

“I swear Scott if you don’t shoot anyone pointing a gun at you I’ll kill you myself,” Mitch said, with so much violence I wasn’t even sure who this was anymore. 

I nodded. This was his new way of telling me he was concerned about me. 

“Stay behind me, and stay close, if I get shot you leave me, understand?”   
No, I didn’t understand. I would never leave him if he was shot, what kind of friend would I be otherwise? I nodded despite this though. I could see Falcon through the window, people with guns guarding the stairs of the plane. 

Mitch uncovered my mouth, and opened the driver side back door. He got out quickly and I followed suit. I didn’t even get to say goodbye or thank you to Rocky before Mitch shut the back door and he sped away. Mitch had his gun held on his left side, and he was walking confidently but quickly to the plane. 

I held my gun in my right hand, and stuck closely to Mitch like he told me to. He nodded to the people guarding the steps, and he turned to me, putting his hand on my back and motioning me to walk up the steps in front of him. 

I was almost in the plane when I heard a gunshot. I turned around quickly and squeezed my gun tighter. Was I supposed to hold it up? Was I meant to point it at someone? Should I be shooting? 

I noticed Mitch was shooting back, only his left hand was held up. Why was he not using his right hand for support? The people guarding the steps were shooting too. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Suddenly I saw people rushing the plane, three of them. It looked like they were outnumbered but because I was being pretty useless, they really weren’t. More shots rang out, I was crouching on the plane now, the plane engine had started, and now shots weren’t accurate because of all the added wind. 

Then a shot just barely missed me and Mitch turned to look at me. The bullet grazed his left cheekbone. He was yelling at me but I didn’t hear him. The people that were helping us in the shootout ran past me on the steps. There were two of them lying motionless, and one of them looked hurt. They still raised their gun though, and Mitch was still yelling at me. 

Without thinking I raised my gun and just...shot. Mitch suddenly ran at me, and I was being shoved into the plane, and the plane door shut. 

What did I do? What did I just do? I scrambled to the window and I saw the last man standing running off. Thank god. I didn’t hit him thank god. 

“Hey Peanut, you good?” 

I turned to Mitch and he was sitting on the plane floor, holding his shoulder, his cheekbone bleeding pretty good. I rushed back over to him, and kneeled in front of him. 

“Are you okay?!”   
“I’m fine, nothing but a couple of grazes,” he said. 

Mitch moved his hand from his shoulder, the top of it was grazed, not bleeding but a cute little burn was there. 

He wiped the blood from his cheekbone, and looked at it. He didn’t seem fazed. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. 

“Don’t be.” 

“He’s new isn’t he Peanut?” 

I turned around and there was a man in a white suit. His tie was black, and he was totally unfazed by everything that happened. He had a champagne chute that he was holding in his right hand and taking tiny sips from. This man was absolutely gorgeous with his blonde hair, and silky brown eyes. 

“Yeah, this is Phantom,” Mitch said, moving to sit in a chair. 

The man leaned forward and stuck out his right hand after switching his chute to his left. 

“Falcon,” I grabbed it and shook. 

I moved to sit back next to Mitch, and he was already pulling out some weird medical supplies from his bag. Where is he getting all of these things? It’s like a never ending bag. 

“You know the drill Peanut?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Drill?” 

“I pull the plane into a different airport, you have to get yourself back to Los Angeles,” Falcon said. 

“It’s to prevent Mafia meeting us there,” Mitch responded. 

I nodded. 

“Did you tell her you’re coming back?” 

“Her?” I asked confused.   
Did he mean Kirstie? He wouldn’t say he name in front of them would he? I guess he wouldn’t even if she wasn’t in this. 

“Oh, no I didn’t. I didn’t have time,” I said. 

“Ok, we’ll meet her when we get back, like I promised.” 

I smiled at him. 

“She would like that.” 

The rest of the plane ride was long, but very comfortable. Mitch and Falcon laughed, and I even got into the conversation. I was happy to see Mitch this way, he used to be so anxious on planes, and now they were the safest place he could possibly be. He could let his guard down up here. 

He must have been ecstatic to make Falcon a friend, being so vulnerable all the time and then finding someone to give him security. 

I didn’t bother asking how they met, it didn’t sound like that was a thing in this lifestyle, just like real names and jobs were something you don’t even think about asking about. 

There was a bedroom in the back and soon Falcon went to go sleep. The other two guards were still awake with Mitch and I, and we talking about nothing the whole rest of the plane ride. 

I could tell talking about nothing was Mitch’s favorite part.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter! @1_Pentaholic


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